


Acid Rain

by scratchienails



Series: No Chance of Precipitation [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drabble Collection, M/M, One Word Prompts, Rev is officially the special person so, Spoilers, more of a character study than anything, someone needs to update rev's tags to include his name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-03-17 11:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13658145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scratchienails/pseuds/scratchienails
Summary: They chase each other in circles, yearning for the people they used to be. To Revolver, this is destiny. To Playmaker, this is choice.





	1. A Decade of Pining

  1. _**Gratitude**_



“I’m searching for someone.” Playmaker admits one day, eyes set on something he sees in the distant horizon. “Someone I want to meet again no matter what.” There’s something in his expression, soft and yearning, but Revolver doesn’t want to know what it is.

 

  1. _**Love**_



“Are you in love with that person?” He asks, and hates himself for it. He hates the way Playmaker’s cheeks tinge red, too, except he really doesn’t. Revolver isn’t even sure who he means--Playmaker’s collaborator? Or the mysterious person he’s relentlessly seeking?

Maybe both, and isn’t that what hurts most?

 

  1. **_Adorable_**



On some net news site, a video is released that immedietely goes viral. Someone is deleting each repost with the ferocity of an avenging angel, but its spreading faster than even they can contain.

Revolver finds it, the most recent addition to a segment of duelist interviews for fans. The video opens up to somewhere in VRAINS, and a microphone is on camera, carrying the interviwer’s voice. “ _What’s your ideal date, Playmaker?”_

_“I’m not interested. Go away.” Playmaker is cautiously glancing around, his expression growing aggravated. He’s searching for something, but its not clear what since the camera remains poised on his avatar’s scowling face._

_“Hmmm,” the Ignis on Playmaker’s wrists hums, catching the interviewers’ attention. “If I had to say: dinner by the beach, watching the sunset. This guy’s a real sucker for classical romance.”_

_“Shut up!” Playmaker barks at his dueldisk, his cheeks looking suspiciously pink. “What would an AI know?”_

_“I’m literally stuck to you, Playmaker-sama. I know what you like.”_

_“And your ideal partner?” The interviewer’s voice is prompting, but it breaks at the end. He seems to be trying not to laugh._

_The AI is in full view now, peeking out of the dueldisk to gesticulate at the camera. “Probably someone doting, supportive, cool...maybe a little mysterious? Oh, they definetely need to be able to cook! And carry a conversation on their own--and--” Playmaker’s hand slams down on his dueldisk, banishing the slime-like AI from sight. His face is bright red now, and he’s_ livid.

_“Excuse me,” Playmaker looks directly into the camera. “I have to go purge some malicious software from my dueldisk.”_

The video cuts there, with the excited tittering of the interviewer. Revolver lets it replay from the start. Then he saves it. 

Beaches and sunsets and food, huh? 

 

  1. _**Watch**_



Playmaker started as a whisper, a distant breeze barely worth his notice. But rumors grow and spread, and before long, every duelist and fan were wondering about the elusive figure. And in a single night, Playmaker went from internet legend to national sensation, taking down a powerful Knight, claiming the hunted AI, and releasing the datastorms upon VRAINS once more. The world stood by, watching with bated breath, for Playmaker to make his next move.

 

  1. _**Dying**_



All Yusaku wants is to feel better, to sleep at night, to not have to be constantly focused on a task or problem just to avoid his own thoughts. Every moment of every day he’s not concentrating, he feels like he’s running on a clock he can’t see thats slowly ticking towards some unimaginable horror. The anxiety, the anger, the paranoia--they all eat away at him, and if he doesn’t rid himself of this soon, he’s certain there will nothing left.

 

  1. _**Sun**_



He watches the sun sink below the horizon, the sky striped with warm, fiery colors. Down on the cliffs a truck is parked, the light gleaming off its windows. The school boy and the hotdog vendor are nothing but indistinct figures by the rails. Maybe that’s all Playmaker was until now, an indistinct figure, but suddenly he’s tangible and close, close enough that they are gazing at the same glorious sunset.

 

  1. _**Stars**_



The atmosphere of Stardust Road is not something even he can ignore, and he rarely is capable of appreciating beatiful things. Kusanagi must notice how his eyes linger on the coastline and the rolling waves, because they start coming more often.

But its not just the sound of water crashing into the shore and the brisk fresh air that eases the tension in Yusaku’s shoulders. It’s a feeling reminiscent of his dreams--the serenity of the distant, open sky, the wind in his hair, the sound of gulls, and when he listens, just beyond the edges of his perception, the voice is calling to him.

 

  1. _**Dreams**_



When he slept, the only reprieve from the nightmares was the voice. Someone calling out to him, reminding him to be strong and to carry on. He wants to hear that again, even if its just once. Just once, and he’s certain he will be able to go on.

 

  1. _**Purple**_



In the city, the wisteria are in bloom, delicate rainfalls of blue, pink, and lavendar draping over arches and columns. He goes to parks just to look at them, thinking of a child long out of reach.

But these are flowers of marriage and devotion, and fate works in terrible, wonderful ways.

 

  1. _**Yearn**_



What will he say, when they finally meet again? _Thank you_ wasn’t enough.

_I’m okay now. I can do this on my own._

_But if it’s at all possible...I would really like if you to stay beside me a little longer._

 

  1. _**Mother**_



“Is it true?” Baira finds him in the halls, the question hanging in the air before either of them can escape it. “Playmaker is--” she cuts herself off, a familiar paleness to her face and a quiver in her lip. He looks away, not wanting to see her weakness, lest he feel his own.

“Yes. Playmaker is one of the test subjects of the Hanoi Project.” It’s a simple sentence, and his voice does not so much as waver. But the truth is that he is still reeling with that knowledge.

“Why?” There’s horror lingering in the edges of her voice, and agony. “Why did he come back?”

He turns away from her, only pausing to reply in a cold voice, “Does it really need to be said?”

Vengeful ghosts only ever wanted one thing: to drag everyone else down with them.

 

  1. _**Father**_



“Have you uncovered Playmaker’s identity?” His father asks, sharp eyes set on Revolver's face. In his mind is the vivid image of the student with Playmaker’s voice, and a wispy memory of a much younger boy. His eyes cold green, his hair colored with the acid of hydrangea, his softness banished and burned.

“No.” Revolver lies, and his father does not ask again.

It is selfish, he knows, to keep this to himself: to gamble humanity’s fate, and his family’s lives, on the ghost of a child he barely knew, and on the destiny that brought that same child back, recrafted out of flame and blood. 

But he will succeed, no matter how high the price of victory grows. 

 

 

 

 


	2. A Year of Thirst

 

 2.  _Believe_

When it first began, he was certain someone would come save him. That was how all the stories went, after all. So he waited, pained and hungry and so scared, for the hero that would take him from that terrible place.

But hours turned to days and days turned into what must have been weeks, until he lost track of time entirely. There was no day or night, just the increments of time when the lights turned off. It was hard to remember that there was world outside that horrible room. His dreams were filled with what he longed for but could no longer feel: the brush of crisp wind across his face, the warmth of sunlight, the comfort of a bed, someone to talk to, cry to, the comfort of human touch.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him. Was there someone who once held his hand, hugged him? The harder he tried to cling to those memories, the more they seemed to slip away from him.

And no hero was coming to save him. There was only the voice.

In the end, he was never saved. So he stopped believing in heroes and saviors, stopped waiting for someone to come along and save him, and stopped looking for help.

The only belief he needed was in himself.

 

_28\. Movie_

Those six months are never far from his mind, and neither are the children that he watched over.

There is something morbid about his fascination with them. At least, that’s what Faust thinks. But even though they were taken from him, even though one even came back, he can’t let go so easily.

As he got older, he started reading the books, watching the documentaries, studying the science. What did that kind of childhood trauma do to people, and what would it continue to do to the six as they grew older? The answer was never clear. Individuals have completely different emotional reactions to traumatic situations depending on their personal history, their capacity for pain, their varying mental health--Spectre alone was proof of that.

Some people fixated on things, ideas, words, people. Fixated and projected and absorbed until their coping mechanism engrained so deeply inside them that it became them.

Had that child fixated on him, on his voice? On his three things? Was he still buried deep in that one, even now?

The thought was strangely satisfying. He really was morbid.

 

_43\. Darkness_

Yusaku tries, he really does. He does everything they say, he does everything right. He goes through the exercises, he writes the journals, he draws the pictures. He forces on a smile and tries to laugh.

But the other children frown at him, nervous and uncomfortable. The adults whisper, his teacher to his case worker to his therapist. And that’s not fair, because he’s _trying_. He knows he’s broken, damaged, but he’s trying to ignore the darkness that lingers in the corners of his vision, trying to forget.

It’s just not that _simple_.

One of his classmates asks if he wants to play Duel Monsters. The boy is _trying_ to be kind and friendly, and Yusaku vomits all over his shoes. It all happens so fast, and suddenly, everyone’s screaming and yelling and the teacher is looking at him with a face so twisted by frustration that he tries to run.

Later, his therapist tells him to try breathing exercises next time he has a panic attack, but he doesn’t remember having a panic attack. It always feels like the world is closing in on him, and he always feels like he’s choking on his own nervousness.

Nothing seems to help, and he tries, he really does. But the one thing that would help, they all say he’s not allowed to do. “Can’t I count in threes?” He asks again, and his therapist shakes her head.

No, he can’t. That’s unhealthy, that will just remind him of everything bad when all he needs to do is forget.

Yusaku has three reasons he can’t forget:

  1. That’s not possible; that’s not how memories work.
  2. If he forgets anything more, he really will have nothing left.
  3. If he forgets, he’ll forget the voice.



And what would he do without the voice?

 

_37\. Beauty_

He’s surprised as anyone when a _hotdog truck_ , of all things, starts showing up at the viewpoint of Stardust Road. During the season of the luminescent bacteria, the spot is plenty popular: tourists, couples, school trips, artist, etc. But its not the season, Stardust is out of the way, and nobody is around to buy hotdogs.

Curiosity drives him down the cliffs to drop by. He doesn’t particularly like greasy, grilled food, but its not like a food truck parks near his house everyday.

Surprisingly, there’s another customer sitting at the tables. The vendor is cheery man with wolfish features that match his logo, and the food doesn’t even look too terrible. The other patron looks even better. If the truck ever comes back, it may have found itself a regular.

 

_39\. Warm_

Light drips from the cage’s ceiling, warm and suffocating on his skin. His monsters dissolve like mirages in the desert, and the AI on his wrist has gone terribly silent, the screen showing nothing but static.

His field is empty, his cards rendered useless, and his allies out of reach. The birdcage isolates him, but he’s not alone. Revolver is watching him with predatory, alien yellow eyes hot and blazing like the falling sparks. He feels cold inside, even as Fire Prison seems to burn him away.

 

_112\. Eavesdrop_

“I’m worried about Ryoken-kun.” Kyoko’s voice carried from the living room, and Ryoken paused to listen, tea tray in hand. All three of Hanoi’s generals had gathered in his home to check on his father’s physical condition. But it would seem that wasn’t all they were checking in on.

“He has been acting...odd.” Asou agreed.

“Come now, just say it. He’s become completely obsessed with Playmaker.” Genome said, and Ryoken felt his hands tighten on the tray. He forced himself to relax, but _Playmaker_ echoed in his ears.

The others didn’t disagree. _Playmaker, Playmaker, Playmaker—_

 

_13\. Red_

After the duel against Revolver, he dreamed about it, about the conversation they had. Something about what Revolver said about “free will” bothered him, made his stomach twist with unease. But he awoke next to Kusanagi and brushed it off.

When Yusaku went to bed next, he expected the usual. The nightmares, the voice, the memories just out of reach. Instead he got red hair and a cage of heat. There was Revolver’s infernal smirk, his inhuman eyes, promising things Yusaku didn’t want to look too far into. _I’m so messed up,_ he thinks when he wakes up with his heartbeat racing with something other than fear.

 

_83\. Dare_

Ryoken descended from the mansion to visit the food truck one last time, making excuses in his own head. He was checking on the enemy, observing them and their location. He needed to eat something. He wanted to see Playmaker--

Ah, that last one wasn’t a very good excuse. He checked his appearance in the mirror before he went and found not a hair out of place, but still he felt self-conscious as he approached. Playmaker was at the table, staring down at his tablet with those _eyes_ , and Ryoken forced himself not to stare, to play it cool.

The vendor greeted him cheerfully as ever and handed over his usual. He took the food with a purposefully ominous, ironic reply, but Playmaker still did not look up. He paused as he walked away, but the tablet still had Playmaker’s full attention.

He contemplated throwing himself off the cliffs as he walked back up, wondering what he had expected to come from it all, besides a hotdog.

 

18.  _Alarm_

He doesn’t hesitate to reduce Ghost Girl to data before Playmaker’s eyes. It’s unavoidable, this close to the tower and its completion. This is destiny, surely; only destiny could have brought Playmaker here in this moment. It would be a declaration of war if they had not passed that point long before. Even so, there is a tangible shift in the air between them. For Playmaker, nothing has changed, but he knows who is behind this avatar now, knows somewhere in this furious duelist is a child that shakes and cries and a teenager with bags under his eyes. There are cracks and weaknesses in the infallible bared before his eyes.

And he will strike at them without mercy. He’s been resigned to being hated for a long time now, and while he never anticipated _that child’s_ scorn, he will take it if that is all he can have.

 

20\. _Fan_

Spectre had fought well--not admirably, or in a fashion Revolver could approve of, but _well_ \--and delayed Playmaker on a crumbling bridge. That had never been in the plan, and Revolver _feels_ when Playmaker plummets, the concrete giving under his feet. He feels it so viscerally his heart leaps in his chest and he’s reaching for his father’s data control program without a thought.

It takes barely any effort at all to cushion Playmaker, to catch him and drop him on solid ground, and he does not apologize to Spectre’s body. No one is awake to judge him.

 

_35\. Two_

From Playmaker’s wrist, IGN006 scowled at him--a poor mimicry of the human expression, at least. He sometimes wondered how something so aggravating could have been birthed from the sixth test subject, _from Playmaker_. The darkness of this Ignis, the strange coloration that separated it from the others, had once intrigued his father and his assistants. Now, it simply belied the ominous truth of the Ignis.

And it belied the truth about the sixth child too, in the end. They hadn’t realized it, foolishly, but IGN006’s darkness could only be the very reflection of #6’s very soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops it got extra shippy  
> hooray for rev having a proper name now


	3. Three Months of Tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, episode 34 was a doozie.

53\. Fault

This is a place of nightmares, Ryoken realizes, and he should not be here. The walls are cold and the rooms dark, and they ring with the constant, horrifying echo of screams. There are six separate rhythms: quiet, the sharp hum of electricity, piercing screams, and the _thud_ of something hitting the walls. Then crying, whimpering, begging. Rinse, repeat.

The sounds of the children’s misery fills the air. Weak voices plead for release, for food, for rest. No one comforts them, and Ryoken doesn’t understand why. When he cries or gets hurt, Asou and Kyoko rush to him with careful hands and soothing voices. When he is hungry, his father feeds him. When he is tired, the doctor reads to him until he falls asleep.

But even as the torment of children surrounds them, his family watches the screens with cold eyes. They only move to adjust settings, to take notes, to punish the children who--

Ryoken can’t figure that out, even; why are the children being punished? He can’t imagine they’ve done anything to deserve this.

What makes him and the children so different?

 

55\. Suitcase

They keep all six of them together, for a little while, in the hospital. There’s problems with them that the people in white need to sort out, Yusaku puzzles out. He kind of agrees, because the other five don’t seem to be alright, and he’s not much better.

He speaks to each of the others, briefly. Some are more responsive than others. It only takes a couple words to discern that none of them are who he is looking for. None of them have ever spoken to him before, or show any signs of recognizing his voice, of knowing his three things.

Yusaku tries to tell the adults that there should be one more child, that someone is missing.

No one listens.

 

80\. Sleep

He can’t get through to the other children. Only the one, the boy with the stunning blue hair and the emerald eyes. He thinks very hard about what he should tell this boy, what words will help him through, what comfort he can give in such a horrible, harsh environment. He cannot ease the boy’s pain with hugs or treats, and he has no food or water to offer. All he has words, so he has to make each one count.

But his father cannot find out. Ryoken feels his skin crawl and itch, and he knows this is a betrayal of his father’s trust. That is why he must act when the others are out, but those opportunities are rare and difficult to discern. Every one of those moments count.

Just like this one. Except the boy is sleeping.

Ryoken shifts uneasily at the console, unsure of what to do. He is sure the boy needs his words, but the boy also needs sleep. But Asou will be returning soon.

Ryoken bites his lip and makes a decision. “Hey, you.” He wished he knew the boy’s name, but he’s too scared to ask. “Wake up.”

 

24\. Reflection

_I’m searching for someone._ Playmaker had said, once. _Someone I want to meet again no matter what._

Oh, Ryoken thinks. It was him all along.

 _Are you in love with that person?_ He had asked, once. Back then, he didn’t want to know the answer. Now he wanted it even less: the possibility too consuming, all-encompassing, insurmountable.

_You shouldn’t be._

 

6\. Trust

_I would follow you to the end of the Earth. You aren’t alone. I am beside you._

_You aren’t a bad person. You saved me, over and over. Maybe you can’t forgive yourself, but I can. I already have. I forgive you._

_That’s why, I can’t let you do this to yourself._

_Because I believe in you too._

Yusaku wants to say a lot of things. As always, words fail him.

 

40\. Chocolate

Yusaku did not register it was Valentine’s Day until Kusanagi forced him to test Cafe Nagi’s V-Day special. He had slept through yet another day of school without so much as noticing the romantic rituals of his peers.

It did not particularly matter. He fitted his duel disk on, preparing to go scout VRAINS. “Oh, Yusaku! Before you go,” Kusanagi stopped him with a mischievous grin, “I opened up Playmaker’s mailbox for the VRAINS Valentine’s Day event.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry, I scanned everything that came in and neutralized everything sketchy.”

“Oh, this is gonna be _good!_ ” Ai chirped from his wrist. Yusaku was still very confused.

VRAINS was...pinker than normal, and more covered in hearts. Cautiously, Yusaku opened up his mailbox, noting with slight anxiety that he had an absurd number of notifications.

His mailbox was filled with virtual chocolates. Ai was delighted. “So many! You’re so popular, Playmaker-sama!”

“Shut up.” Yusaku groaned. “Are these even edible?”

“Virtually, yes.” Ai told him, voice warping into something that sounded like an attempt at robotic. “They, uh, simulate? Simulate the human experience of eating.”

“You’re a terrible AI.” Yusaku scrolled through the gifts, then stopped. He scrolled back.

“Is that…” Ai trailed off. It was a heart shaped box covered in a very familiar pattern of bullets and diamonds.

Yusaku exed out his mailbox.

 

10\. White

His father is dead, his heart stopped, his vitals flatlined. There isn’t even a chance of resuscitation. His father is dead and this time he’s not coming back.

Ryoken hears footsteps behind him, hears a familiar voice. He feels numb, and there’s a distant roaring in his ears, like one of his dragons. He thinks he can taste failure coating the inside of his mouth.

 _This,_ he thinks as he turns to meet Playmaker’s unwavering gaze, _is one hell of a White Day return gift._

 

21\. Seek

It doesn’t come as much of a shock as it should have. He accepts it so easily that maybe, he thinks, some part of him had already suspected. Only one person ever appeared in his dreams, but Revolver also did. Maybe somehow, subconsciously, he had made the connection all the way back then.

He doesn’t know how to feel. This beautiful, elegant person is the one he’s been searching for. This person is also Revolver. He’s been searching for Revolver, and Revolver has been searching for him. Chasing each other in neat little circles, clashing but never connecting.

He had thought they were trains on parallel tracks, not realizing they were just trains hurtling towards each other, gaining speed and ignoring the whistles. The collision could kill one of them. Or both of them.

But Yusaku hadn’t come this far to give up.

 

111\. Eye

“But why did you have to go this far?” It’s a question he expected to come, sometime. A question Ryoken asked himself, whenever he had doubts over the years. His father and the others, and then himself, had all gone too far, and Yusaku had paid the price for it.

But Ryoken’s father hadn’t intended for things to go so wrong. Ryoken believed that, but putting it into words was...difficult.

“My father didn’t create the Ignis to cause chaos in the world.” The reasoning he easily accepted, though, felt flimsy before the child his father had scapegoated. Ryoken couldn’t find the strength to meet Yusaku’s eyes. It felt like an excuse.

It was the truth. It had to be.

 

9\. Hope

His three reasons have been checked off on a nice little list.

  1. He has uncovered the truth of their past
  2. He has been freed from that Incident’s influence.
  3. He has found the person he’s been searching for.



Ten years later, and he’s finished. His revenge is complete in the form of a corpse laying withered on a bed. All that’s left is the Tower, and Ryoken.

Ryoken, who he must save.

 

54\. Forgiveness

“I’m not a good person.” Ryoken is certain of this. Good people do not terrorize innocents and reduce living people to data. Good people do not put teenagers into comas. Good people don’t get their fathers killed.

Good people don’t torture children. Good people don’t smile as they do it. Ryoken understands that his father is--was. Was not a good person. But all their sins were for the sake of humanity; sometimes, a few must suffer for the better of many.

That is why he cannot stop now.

And yet, those eyes pierce him through. He will not waver, not even for that child, and yet...Ryoken does not want to be forgiven. But looking into those clear, pleading eyes, he realizes he may not have a choice.

 

106\. Terminal

“Do we have to fight?” This isn’t what he wanted. He started this quest, but he never wanted this. Spectre had mocked his weakness, his inability to follow through on the revenge he promised himself, his unwillingness to do what had to be done.

Akira had disintegrated in data because of that weakness.

But, looking at Kogami Ryoken’s cold, burnt eyes, Yusaku recognized the person he didn’t want to be: someone capable of this.

Ryoken was unwavering. For the first time in a year, the dueldisk on Yusaku’s wrist felt like a shackle, not a weapon. The light overtook them, blinding and white.

Maybe only his weakness could save them now.

 

32\. Home

One last duel, and then Yusaku could go home. Really go home, for the first time in ten years. He could crawl into bed with the firm knowledge that it was all over. His tormentor was dead, unable to ever hurt him again. His savior was--not okay, but not in immediate danger.

One last duel, and he was safe to relax. One last duel and they could all finally go home.


	4. Six Hours of Challenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely happy with this batch, but this week's ep deserves its own update so here we are. Some of these dip into my own personal headcanons that at the current time have not been disproven by canon.

48\. Blue

As a kid, he wondered if it was his own fault. If he had done something wrong, and was being punished for it. Was he a bad child, and that was why they were hurting him? Was he a bad duelist, and that was why they were starving him? Was he dead, and was this Hell? Was this prison? Had he broken some law?

As a kid, Yusaku hadn’t understood that violence could be so senseless, that it didn’t matter who he was or what he’d done, just that his pain could fuel someone else’s sick desire for cruelty. But then he finally got to go home, and nothing got better. His parents were gone before he knew it, and he was alone. He really must have done something bad, for his parents to leave him like that. So it was for the best, because if his parents weren’t near him, nothing else bad would happen to them. That was what he thought as a kid; how he rationalized it all.

As Yusaku grew up, he learned more and more that he was nothing but trouble for other people. He was a burden on adults, and the bane of his peers. Eventually, he learned to keep his distance, to spare everyone involved the stress of dealing with him. It wasn't like he needed any of them anyway, since he had the voice. The voice was his friend, and they would find each other again someday. Until that day came, Yusaku should be and would be alone.

Years went on, and he met Kusanagi. He started to investigate his past properly, trying to understand what had been so incomprehensible to him as a child. He became Playmaker, the dark horse of a life and death game of cat and mouse.

Just more reasons to keep others away.

Because it wasn’t paranoia if they really were after you, Yusaku knew.

 

123\. Imagination

Despite everything, he grows up. So does Spectre, the passage of time clear in the height they gain. Years pass too fast and too slow, and Ryoken aches with each. At the cusp of three years, his father returns to him an empty husk.

Two years later, and his father has _really_ returned, and it’s not the same. Ryoken has so many things to say, to apologize for, but no ability to speak. His father does not want to hear any of it anyway, eyes and ears set on what must be done.

Time marches on, paying no heed to his regrets. They’re almost adults before he knows it, youth slipping from their hands like sand. Ryoken, and Spectre, and the other five; their adolescence lies withered at their feet, corrupted and dark.

His own face sharpens, any lingering traces of the softness of childhood chiseled away. But when he looks in the mirror, he sees their faces, contorted with misery and pain. They must all be aging, like Spectre, and he tries to imagine it: their physical forms losing the only superficial remainder of their innocence left.

What does Test Subject #6 look like now? He tries to picture his victim, old enough for high school and cigarettes and alcohol. Old enough for dating.

Pretty enough for dating.

His stomach twists, unfathomably.

 

129\. Mystery

The Cyberse cards had been coming to him for years. They would appear him in odd places, at odd times, and helplessly Yuaku began to collect them. When he ignored them, they just showed up somewhere else, or were taken by someone else ( _and then Hanoi came for them)_. It wasn’t long before he had enough for a deck, as disjointed and awkward as said deck was. It was lacking a core, an internal structure and system built around an ace.

Against his better judgement, he started looking for cards. And that’s when the first ritual spell came into his hands. It came as a surprise; rituals were a facet of the game almost long abandoned, and a strange match for the technology-based Cyberse. The result was a strange blend of magic and technology, a mix of the occult and computer science. An enigma. A contradiction.

It felt right. It felt like it suited him: the elusive hacker, the unexpected emissary, the relentless avenger.

The monster summoned at the altar bathed in blood of six sacrificial lambs.

 

140\. Discovery

“I have three reasons to defeat you!” Playmaker snarls, and Ryoken chokes on his next breath.

 _A coincidence_ , is his first thought.

“I will defeat you and uncover the truth of what happened ten years ago!” Three, ten. The only number missing is _six_ , but it’s already enough. This is no coincidence.

Ryoken remembers a child, tiny and fragile, crying alone in an empty room. He remembers thinking, _this is what misery looks like. This is despair._ He remembers fading green eyes, he remembers terror.

 _I know who you are._ Somehow, it feels like betrayal.

 

70\. Willpower

Test Subject No.6. Playmaker was No.6. No.6 was hunting down Hanoi and had captured the Ignis.

Ryoken could hardly believe it. It seemed almost absurd that the traumatized, weak child he knew for a handful of months, the one that clung to his words like a lifeline, could have grown up into someone brave enough to hunt his tormentors and capable enough to surpass all expectations. It must have taken incredible strength to take up dueling again, and inconceivable courage to face the Knights of Hanoi.

But his No.6 did not have that sort of strength and courage; his No.6 was a fae of ruined innocence and sweet fragility, the tragic beauty of shattered glass.

But his nemesis was a demon of single-minded tenacity and vicious spice, scorching in his fury and resplendent in his nobility. Playmaker wasn’t some broken child, lying crumpled on the floor of a cell. And yet he was. He was No.6.

No.6 wasn’t _supposed_ to be Playmaker. No.6 was supposed to be a beautiful, broken boy anxiously living his life somewhere far away, safely, _cautiously_ out of the line of fire, with wet green eyes and trembling hands. No.6 was supposed to never duel again.

Playmaker was _supposed_ to be a bold fool with a strong sense of justice misled by some slight; someone untouched by the mistakes of Ryoken and his father that glared at computer screens and held his head high. Someone Ryoken did not have to feel guilt towards. Someone Ryoken did not need to shelter, someone Ryoken could battle with no reservations.

They weren’t _supposed_ to be the same person. But Ryoken’s mistakes always did have a way of coming back to haunt him.

 

75. Consumed

Yusaku doesn’t _like_ things, in that he doesn’t derive enjoyment from them. He dislikes sleep more than he dislikes coffee, so he consumes a great deal of caffeine. He dislikes hotdogs, but he dislikes paying for food even more, especially when it’s liable to come back up on the bad days. He dislikes school, and dislikes sleeping in class, but he dislikes sleeping in his apartment more. He dislikes dueling and building decks, but he hates Hanoi most.

Hate is reserved for Hanoi.

 _Like_ is reserved for his special person, who he doesn’t know yet. Whoever they are, however they are, and wherever they are, Yusaku is certain he will like them regardless. They are likely male, he figures, but he doesn’t want to assume. They are probably around his age. They are kind, and strong, and smart, like the heroes of fairytales and comics. And someday, somehow, they’ll reunite with Yusaku.

He _likes_ to daydream about how they’d meet, in a perfect world. He likes to think that maybe their reunion would be sweet and heartfelt, with helpless tears and shaky smiles. Maybe they would hold him, tell him how glad they are to see him standing strong, how proud they are of Playmaker. Maybe they would wipe away his tears and tell him how much they wished they could do so back then, and Yusaku could cling to them and know that they are both safe.

It’s stupid. Foolish. Illogical. Embarrassing. Fantasies so absurdly fanciful that they almost make Yusaku feel normal and sixteen.

 

99\. Target

When the initial ecstasy fades, the delight of his discovery stuttering under its own weight, he does his research. A face is not a name, but it is just a step away.

Fujiki Yusaku. Every stroke of the kanji fascinates him in its complexity, in the story it tells. Game, work, to play, to make. Playmaker. He almost wants to laugh, it’s so simple, so forthright. He had fantasized endlessly about what he would find when he finally stripped Playmaker of his facade, when he peeled back the mask and peered inside. But the reality is better, because Playmaker is simply Playmaker, and Playmaker is Yusaku; no tricks, no traps, and no disappointment. Even in the world of lies and deceit, that child was untarnished.

For now.

And Ryoken comes crashing back down, because what does he do with this? His father hurt Yusaku once, he would certainly do it again—no, he would make Ryoken hurt Yusaku, and that—that—

His heart constricted, a thousand memories of Yusaku’s tears, screams, sobs swirling to life, contorting, aging, until Ryoken was the one electrocuting him and—

Ryoken's mental spiral ended there, abruptly. The thoughts weren’t as upsetting as they should have been, because he couldn’t imagine it, not really. He couldn’t imagine hurting that child so purposely. It would be impossible. One tear and Ryoken would crumble, giving like damp rice-paper.

Ryoken couldn’t do _anything_ with this knowledge. All it did was fuel more foolish fantasies.

 

97\. Story

It’s Ghost Girl that gets him thinking about it, somehow. They had run into each other in Vrains, and she ended up chattering away about topics Yusaku didn’t quite understand, or even try to understand. She may have been venting about _whatever_ was going on between her and Zaizen Akira, but he couldn’t be sure. She always spoke so vaguely.

“I suppose that’s the problem with your first love.” She sighed, sounding almost pouty. “It never ends happily.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Yusaku asked. He really did not understand. Ghost Girl sighed again and patted his arm. Yusaku wondered if she had any friends, but decided she couldn’t possibly have anyone besides Zaizen himself. People with friends and healthy human relationships did not seek out _him_ , of all people, to work through their tangled emotions.

“Haven’t you ever been in love?” She asked, batting her eyelashes. “A cool guy like you must have broken plenty of hearts.”

 _No,_  was the immediate answer that came to mind, but her words stuck. Had Yusaku ever been in love? He’d never been close enough to anyone to even consider it.

“No.” He said, simply.

Ghost Girl tutted. “Come on, you’ve never had someone you just couldn’t seem to stop thinking about, even when you slept?”

“I believe you are projecting.” Yusaku said, defensively. The only one in his dreams was his special person—

Oh. _Oh._

Oh no.

 

102\. Listen

Fujiki Yusaku is a high school student with grades just good enough to maintain his scholarship and a penchant for sleeping through class.

Fujiki Yusaku lives in a shitty apartment by himself with a cheap, limited robot model. His parents were a miserable story that made Ryoken’s stomach twist: his mother committed suicide three months into the Incident, haunted by her stolen son. His father, unable to cope with his wife’s death and his son’s return as a traumatized husk, vanished.

Fujiki Yusaku had no notable friends besides Kusanagi Shouichi. Kusanagi Shouichi, elder brother to Kusanagi Jin, who was a teen with a familiar face and dead eyes wasting away in a psychiatric facility.

Clearly, on paper, Fujiki Yusaku’s life was a miserable, pathetic affair. It hurt to read it, to know the one child he might have actually saved, his only consolation in his guilt, hadn’t really been saved at all. To know ten painful years had passed by and Yusaku had continued to suffer and Ryoken couldn’t do a thing about it. Another regret, another failure. He hadn’t saved anyone at all, just released upon the world humanity’s bane in the form of a broken, indomitable teenager.

But in life, Fujiki Yusaku was nothing short of sublime _anyway,_ and that was the hardest part. Because if Yusaku was just another mad, messed up kid on a warpath, Ryoken could pull the trigger and bury their tragedy. But Yusaku was brilliant and captivating, and humanity, silly doomed humanity and its doomed savior, was enthralled with his image.

No one told Ryoken ruin could be so tempting.

 

149\. Jealousy

Fujiki Yusaku and Kusanagi Shoichi are near inseparable, the lone exception being school hours. They spend all their time together, in the van, doors sealed against the outside world. Ryoken learns this through security cameras, binoculars, and live observation in public plazas, trapped outside of a world he cannot reach.

Torturously, he imagines what goes on within, two men breathing each other's air. Stupidly, he imagines Yusaku’s still body within, abandoned and vulnerable as Playmaker tears up the Vrains.

Ryoken has no right to resent Kusanagi Shoichi, not while knowing Kusanagi Jin’s condition. But rationality like that doesn’t help him sleep at night, not while knowing those two are probably still awake, together. Maybe just friends, maybe just allies. But still that is so much more than Ryoken can ever be allowed, and it burns.

 

87\. Yellow

“I feel we should pay more attention to Playmaker.” Spectre advised, at first. Revolver scoffed.

“I told you so,” Spectre told him later, “We should devote ourselves to hunting him.” Revolver agreed, dispassionately.

“We’ll take care of Playmaker. Do not concern yourself, Revolver-sama.” Spectre’s brow was contorted in worry. No one had expected that he would lose, least of all Ryoken. Ryoken could not accept it; he had to settle things properly. He had to face Playmaker.

“Revolver-sama, I feel you are devoting too much energy to Playmaker.” Spectre said, much later. Ryoken wasn’t listening. His mind was elsewhere.

“I won’t let you reach Revolver-sama.” Spectre growled, finally.

“He wants me to.” Playmaker replied, frowning. It was the truth.

 

94\. Hero

At eight years old, Ryoken had been too young to understand that temptation came in forms beyond candy and toys. When that child cried, green eyes impossibly huge and wet in his thin, pale face, Ryoken hadn’t understood good things, like kindness and compassion and being nice, could be misled and lured. He hadn’t known to resist those eyes, back then. He didn’t have the knowledge or the strength to defy them for the sake of humanity.

Now, ten years later, Ryoken knows all about temptation, especially the temptation of glistening emerald eyes. Give up, those eyes tell him. Surrender. Chose the living over the dead, and damn whatever comes afterwards. The immediate reward will be worth it, Ryoken knows somehow. If he just turns off the Tower and lets the Ignis go, Fujiki Yusaku will give him everything he wants, grant his every selfish, petty desire.

He resists, unfaltering in the face of what he helplessly coveted before. Those eyes promise a future Ryoken cannot have, doesn’t _deserve_ to have. Those eyes have led him wrong before, he reminds himself; twice. Twice to his father’s grave. And they will lead him there a third time, to spit upon his father's sacrifice and to set human aspirations ablaze, if he lets them.

But in the end, it doesn’t matter; no matter what he chooses now, those eyes have already led him straight to hell.

So he will take them with him.

 

130\. Disaster

_First loves never end happily,_ Ghost Girl said.

Yusaku had not thought those words would apply to his.

 

7\. Tradition

“I’ll give you three reasons to despair.” Those words hurt in their own awful way, striking and bitter. His decade-old faith thrown spitefully in his face. Yusaku did not flinch—did not allow himself to flinch. But it hurt, a sudden aching pain, as Revolver struck at his weakest point. Yusaku did not have much of anything, so he cherished what he did have: a reliable ally, a troublesome AI, and a voice that gave him strength. Those words that Ryoken gave him so long ago were precious, but here Ryoken was, knowing exactly how important they were, and stomping on them, using them to hurt him.

And they hurt. More than everything else, _it hurt._ But that was all. Yusaku could take being hurt; he knew how to bear pain, he knew how to carry rejection. So that person wanted him to hurt? Was that what it meant to be grateful, to repay someone? That was fine. Yusaku could bear both of their suffering, broken hearts, because he had three reasons.

For Ai, the Ignis, and all the fallen.

For Ryoken, his not-savior.

And for broken little boy Yusaku used to be, he could be the hero he so desperately clung to.

 

134\. Horizon

The two of them alone at the end of the world—the end of the digital era. Ryoken could taste the promise of finality on the wind, as sharp and bitter as fate itself. His destiny  stood across from him, at last.

He’d spent nearly every waking moment since their last match preparing for this moment, tearing his deck apart and rebuilding it to cut-off each of Playmaker’s strategies, then starting all over again with the knowledge that that wasn’t good enough.

Now, the finale had arrived in an empty, desolated world, and Ryoken is ready for it, hungry for the end and the battle, the culmination of ten years of wishes and one year of craving, for Playmaker, Yusaku, Subject No. 6, to tear him apart.

 

47\. Fall

“You have friends too!” Ai said, desperation lacing his silly voice. And he really must have been desperate, because he had to know that that wasn’t true. Yusaku didn’t have anyone.

But it was sweet thought: having friends that could make him laugh, make him smile, make him feel like he belonged, make him feel like getting up each morningwas worthwhile. What was it like to be understood and accepted? Yusaku did not know. The closest comparison he had was Kusanagi, and the only connection between them was one of mutual misery. Just two broken people enabling each other's destructive tendencies and malformed coping mechanisms. In the place of human companionship, for ten years, he had constructed a friend out of a voice, imagining and wondering and hoping. But those expectations were lying shattered at his feet, stomped on and ground into the dirt with every other vestige of his childhood.

Yusaku looked up at Revolver, and remembered every dream, every innocent little wish. The rest of the cruel world may have spat on his naive little hope, including the one person that really mattered, but Yusaku couldn’t let that trample his heart. All alone, he survived torture, starvation, and solitary confinement. He survived loneliness, hopelessness, and abandonment. He survived the underhanded tactics of a greedy conglomerate, the relentless hunting of Hanoi, and the target he painted on his own back. All for the sake of a future where he could leave it all behind and _live,_ not just survive. A future where he wasn’t alone, because he found that person.

So Yusaku could survive a little longer. He couldn’t give up on that future, naive and childish and foolish as it may be, just yet.

 

.

.

_Bonus Omake_

150\. Requited

“Impressive as always, _Playmaker_.” Revolver is grinning, his voice deep and rumbling. He growls Yusaku’s username the way he always has, guttural and authoritative with each English syllable. It’s always made Yusaku’s hair stand on end, but now it makes his heart pound. His chest feels tight, and his face feels hot.  Revolver— _Ryoken, the one—_ sounds pleased, and knowing it makes Yusaku’s stomach twist in unfamiliar ways. “Just like that, you sealed away my offense.”

 _Focus,_ he tells himself, ignoring the strange feelings as he tries to concentrate on executing his strategy.

He completes the Link Summoning, gathering three Code Talkers on the field. All he had to do was remained focused on victory.

But he wasn’t focused at all, playing so recklessly. He should have known Revolver had more traps than just Mirror Force. Instead of victory in his grasp, he gets five counters hanging over his head. And he has a good idea of just what those counters are for.

Revolver is smirking again, satisfaction and anticipation practically oozing out of his every pore. He’s enjoying this to the fullest, somehow. “You know what’s coming next, don’t you?” Borreload, in all likelihood. At least Revolver hasn’t said—“ _Playmaker_ ,” no, there there it is. Yusaku’s heart does something odd. It feels almost like fluttering, “ _you’re_ the one that fell right into _my_ trap.”

 _This man is going to be the death of me,_ Yusaku thinks as Borreload takes the field and his Transcode Talker.

“ _Playmaker_!” Again. Yusaku wants to scream, and it’s not because of the dragon. “This is the bullet that will decide our destiny!” _Our destiny,_ Revolver says so casually. _Ours._ Yusaku doesn’t know anything about destiny, but those words strike at something weak inside of him, far harder than any of Revolver’s attacks.

“ _Playmaker_!” _Again._ Revolver growls his name, like it's his obsession, like it's _special._ Yusaku didn’t know how much more of this he could stand. “There’s no other way for us. We are prisoners of destiny, chained by what happened ten years ago.” _Chained._ Some part of Yusaku dies with those words, and the rest of him is disturbingly, wildly alive.

“Can you,” Yusaku takes a breath. His face feels like it’s on fire, and his hands are shaking. Except those sensations are his own, not Playmaker’s. Playmaker is programmed to not show his weakness like that, but still he _feels_ it. He can’t take it anymore, so he says, “stop talking like that?”

Revolver pauses, mid-dramatic gesture. “Like what?” He seems confused, and Yusaku can feel himself broiling in his own embarrassment. “This is how I always talk?”

“It’s different,” Yusaku mutters, because it’s too late to go back now, “when it’s from someone I like.” He can’t meet Revolver’s eyes as he says it, staring at the floor, before tentatively ripping his own gaze back up to catch Revolver’s reaction.

For the second time since they met, Revolver is speechless. He opens his mouth, shuts it, then tries to hide behind his cards, before seemingly realizing they’re in Vrains and he has no hand to hide behind. Then he turns away.

There’s a long moment of silence. Yusaku just lost over three-quarters of his lifepoints, the duel should be in full-swing, and they’re running out of time, but still they’ve both stalled, peeking at eachother out of the corners of their eyes in embarrassment.

“That’s,” Revolver starts, his voice now tight, like he’s being strangled, “not fair.”

“Neither is saying my name like that.” Yusaku shoots right back, fidgeting.

“They know they’re on livestream right now, right?” Pigeon asks, struggling to stay above the duel. “And that the internet is about to be destroyed?”

“Shhh.” Frog says wisely, “This is the wildest turn the duel has taken yet! Cornered by Revolver’s devilish strategy, Playmaker has busted out his trump card! A love confession!”

“ _Yamamoto-sempai!”_

 


	5. One Night of No Network Connection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the great feedback, everyone! I love seeing people die in the comments because that's my definition of success. Murder.  
> Also Ryoken is a big dramatic baby and exited stage left in the most EXTRA WAY POSSIBLE SCREW U RYOKEN  
> also this chapter may be full of errors whoops

88\. Disobedience

Ryoken hadn’t meant to fall.

But Playmaker is everywhere. On the news, on the clickbait, on the major video sharing sites, and on the forums. His hashtag on Tvitter trends constantly, overflowing with speculation, critique, fan ravings, sightings of questionable validity, _fan works_. People usually completely disinterested with Vrains and dueling are invested in his mystique and conspiracy. A modern-day vigilante, taking on cyber-terrorists all alone, only protected by the thin veil of a secret identity.

Playmaker was something interesting in a dull world, a taste of the fantastical and superhuman.

He doesn’t know how they suppose he should escape Playmaker, either. Playmaker’s on the lips of Ryoken’s Knights, his Generals, his friends and his family. Playmaker’s at the center of the mission, their pasts, their present, and their futures.

Ryoken falls, helplessly, and knows he’s failed again.

 

36\. Wonderful

“What’s your ideal world, Revolver-sama?” Spectre asks off-handedly one day, and Ryoken pauses to consider it.

_The Ignis have been destroyed, SOL has fallen, my family is alright, and Playmaker is sucking my dick._

Ryoken thinks he probably shouldn’t mention that last part.

 

156\. Determination

Fujiki Yusaku is nothing if not tenacious. Ten years of painful toiling have brought him here to this moment. Years of isolation and loneliness, of uncertainty and anxiety. Of picking up the shattered pieces of himself and trying to fit them together into something that functioned.

And he succeeded. Against all odds, the hapless victim stood atop the world and his enemies, burned clean and reforged out of diamond and steel. Everything he had set out to do was resolved in the wake of his footsteps, leaving just one last battle.

And so, Yusaku will not lose here, either.

 

89\. Path

Everything is Playmaker’s fault: his father’s death, the defeat of all his allies, Spectre’s breakdown, _their failure_. Ten years ago, Playmaker was the snake in their Garden of Eden, and Ryoken was foolish Eve, biting into the forbidden fruit when he picked up the phone and made that call.

One damn mistake, and he released that child, _Playmaker,_ to bring ruin on them all.

It was Playmaker’s fault SOL Tech took his father away and rose to power, when he tricked Ryoken into banishing them from paradise. It was Playmaker that harbored the Ignis, the bane of human evolution. And it was Playmaker’s fault Ryoken was so helpless to do anything about it.

It is Playmaker’s fault that now he has to kill thousands of people and set humanity back decades in technological research, just to prevent an even worse disaster.

It was Playmaker’s fault Ryoken laid awake so many nights, broiling in his own frustration.

Everything that had gone wrong came back to Playmaker.

But all that ends now, Ryoken knows. In minutes, Playmaker will be dead.

And yet, Playmaker is watching him with soft eyes without fear or anger. “It’s not like this is what I wanted.” Playmaker speaks in a steady, gentle voice. He sounds honest, but Ryoken has fallen for that before. If even Playmaker did not want this, than why were they here at all? “But even if I try to walk a different path, _I can’t_!”

Ryoken’s breath leaves him, and he doesn’t know why, except that he recognizes the trapped look in Playmaker’s eyes, and the strain in his voice. He recognizes himself, struggling in a role forced upon him too young and carrying a burden that drains the vitality out of him. A prisoner of fate.

But Playmaker must be the one to blame. Ryoken could not live with anything else.

 

64\. World

_< Nec-romancer has entered the chatroom>_

_< cabbage367 has enter the chatroom>_

_< 45phe-ri has entered the chatroom>_

**Nec-romancer:** hoLY SHIT did that just happen

 **cabbage367:** asdfghjl; IDK MAN IM DEAD

 **45phe-ri:** that was WILD

 **45phe-ri** and gay. I didnt understand half of wat just happened but i KNO it wwas gay

 **Nec-romancer:** i cant believe Playmaker is a gay icon

 **cabbage367:** saving the internet from ur cyber terrorist bf is now gay culture

 **45phe-ri:** quit it with the ancient memes nerds

 **45phe-ri:** also the guys over at 2chan are so pissed

 **Nec-romancer:** well all their PM fantasies are RUINED. Ah who ami kidding. All my PM fantasies are ruined. Playmaker-sama whhyyyyyyyy

 **45phe-ri:** and for THAT IMG-4748898_freaky_alien_terrorist_man.jpg

 **cabbage367:** im more offended that revolver rejected him! Wat kind of blind do u gotta be to dump PLAYMAKER???

 **Nec-romancer:** playmaker should just date me instead. I woudl love and appreciate him

 **45phe-ri:** PM is too good for for humanity

 **45phe-ri:** thats why SOL is gonna ban him in the new vr lol

 **Nec-romancer:** PM too OP. too perfect, too good. BANNED.

 **cabbage367:** but not gonna lie, I ship it

 

17\. Flee

He told Playmaker that he wouldn’t run from his destiny, but here he is, running away. Ryoken knows his destiny is not just saving humanity from its encroaching doom, because his destiny also has green eyes and an enduring spirit. And now he is fleeing from the sight of those eyes and the damn chains that bind the two of them together, like a coward.

But all he can do was run, because if he stays, Ryoken is sure he will falter. He needs to separate himself from Yusaku, because Yusaku is his weakness, just as he had been ten years before. Yusaku is a distraction, an obstacle, and a temptation, and Ryoken is done letting that control him.

So he flees, retreating in the only direction he is certain Yusaku can not follow.

It hurts more than it should.

 

23\. Short

It’s a long, quiet walk home. Yusaku follows the roads, treading in the space between concrete and grass, with his eyes on the sky. The stars are still sparking between the branches of trees, but they gradually grow dimmer as he moves closer to the city. He watches them fade with a heavy heart and a lump in his throat.

Despite it all, he feels lighter. The usual exhaustion that weighs on him when he exits the Vrains is missing, and instead his body seems to hum with easy energy. His wrist feels strangely loose without his duel-disk, and the lack of an aggravating voice only punctuates the emptiness.

It’s a long walk, and it’s been an even longer journey. But he is alive, and that is enough.

 

33\. Travel

The vast, open ocean may be exactly what Ryoken needs. The air is cool and fresh, and the boat rocks gently with the waves. Above him is a canopy of glimmering stars, and under him is rolling darkness and shimmering crests.

His failures feel far away, here, and yet he feels closer to something else. Himself, maybe.

But he’s not sure where he’s going. There’s ports and yacht clubs and a thousand different options: new cities, new people, new sights, but he can’t be bothered to look them up. There’s no will in his body to chart a course, because part of him knows the only path he should really be following is backwards, back to the shore and to his destiny.

And he’s not ready to want that yet.

 

51\. Abandon

“Welcome home!” Roboppy’s chipper voice calls out to him as he enters his apartment. She’s waiting in middle of the room, LED eyes bright and expectant. He unpacks his bag on his desk, setting his duel-disk down. There’s no need to lock it up anymore.

Roboppy watches it with interest when she thinks he isn’t looking.

“He’s gone.” Yusaku says, and she turns her head ninety degrees to look at him. “That thing is empty now. He went home.”

Yusaku doesn’t think his cheap, obsolete housekeeping robot has feelings--or at least, she’s not supposed to--but he thinks there’s something sad about how her head tilts back down and her arms curl in. Something like pity rises in his chest, and he feels a sudden affection for the little robot that was his only companion for so long. He gets up to settle beside her on the floor, and awkwardly, he reaches for her.

Yusaku thinks he knows exactly how she feels. Left behind.

 

63\. Open

Ryoken’s house is empty after that day, but that doesn’t stop Yusaku from coming back. The housekeeping robots keep letting him in, so he assumes he’s welcome. He does his homework on Ryoken’s tables, he cleans out Ryoken’s fridge. He sits in the window and watches the sunset. He leaves notes. He waits for Stardust Road to appear again, brilliant and shining.

He won’t let Ryoken pretend he doesn’t exist.

One night, when he’s feeling particularly bold, he sleeps on the bed he _knows_ is Ryoken’s. The room is bland and empty and uninhabited, but Yusaku thinks he feels closer here; like there’s a little less distance between them.

It’s an illusion, because Ryoken has not come back.

 

1\. Sometimes

Working at Cafe Nagi gives him something to do, now that he’s not spending the majority of each day relentlessly searching for their next lead. Learning to cook isn’t easy, and talking with customers is even harder.

But some customers like him. Like this one, that hangs around when Yusaku takes his break. “What time do you usually get off?” The boy asks, and he’s nice enough, with hopeful eyes and a clumsy smile.

“Why do you ask?” Yusaku sits down at one of the tables and the boy follows him like a puppy.

“Well, I was wondering if you...might want to go out sometime.”

Yusaku believes he is being asked on a date. He is admittedly not certain what he is supposed to do with that. Because the boy is nice, and friendly, and Yusaku did tell Kusanagi that he wanted to try being a normal teenager. And normal teenagers went on normal dates with normal boys. It might not even be so bad.

But.

But he hesitates. Something inside him protests, viscerally, to the idea, like a lurching, unhappy feeling rising in his chest. When he looks at the boy’s brown eyes, he wishes they were blue.

“I’m sorry.” Yusaku says, watching the boy’s face fall. “But there’s already someone I like.”

 

69\. Formula

His dreams have always been restless. They echo with crying and screaming, and are full of hazy images of his father withering away. Sometimes they burn with the wrath of something Ryoken cannot see, cannot identify, but thinks is the Ignis.

But that night, Playmaker walks out of the flames, his hair and hands stained with the red of human blood.

 _You consume me_ , Ryoken accuses, trapped by the raging flames as they reduce his miserable world to ash. And Playmaker smiles like an angel and kisses him and Ryoken can taste the hellfire burning inside him at the back of his throat, on his tongue.

Ryoken wakes up heaving.

 

128\. Clean

His nightmares start to fade. It’s not entirely a natural process, but more the product of Yusaku’s bullheaded refusal to allow them to terrorize them any longer. He does not allow himself to be afraid when he lies down to sleep, and only focuses on the thoughts that bring relief: his tormentor’s still corpse, the beautiful image of the Cyberse, Kusanagi’s easy smile, the sunlight catching the iridescence of Ryoken’s hair.

And in the morning he wakes up a little fresher than the day before, like he’s polished some tarnished part of his soul clean at last.

 

124\. Secret

The world doesn’t understand what happened at the top of that tower. They don’t understand the journey Playmaker spoke of, and they don’t understand the objective Revolver struggles toward. There’s a story in their exchanged words that goes untold, and what is said aloud paints an unpleasant picture. Rumors and speculation spread like wildfire, and people call for Revolver’s arrest, for Playmaker to ease their fears.

But Playmaker and Revolver disappear.

The world keeps turning, and Playmaker remains a mystery unsolved.

But.

 

67\. New

So it’s not exactly happily ever after. Yusaku is okay with that.

Happily ever afters are reserved for the ending, after all, and Yusaku’s certain there’s a lot more to their story than this.


End file.
